MEMOIR | THIS HAPPENED TO ME | CELEBRATING DADS
Raising a Toast to a Great Dad
Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad. A great dad
I’ve never known my dad. He abandoned my mom when she was pregnant with me. You’d think that would embitter my mom towards all men, right? But no, she was an angel. Not only did she not bear grudges, she also made sure I didn’t either.
I grew up listening to her extolling her own dad’s virtues — who was known in our neighborhood as a generous and kind man who’d literally take the shirt off his back to give it to someone in need. In fact, I remember anecdotes in which he actually wore three shirts in winter just so he could take two off and donate to the people who lived on the streets. Mom and her siblings adored him for his soft-spoken yet strong nature and to a large extent inherited most of his wonderful qualities.
During my growing up years, Mom more than made up for the lack of a father figure in my life. I have secretly envied a couple of friends’ dads — especially my best friend’s — and I smile as I recall her saying “Hey, mi papa es su papa!” She and I have wonderfully fond and tearful memories of her dad — and when we are on our weekly phone call — she lives in a different country — we enjoy reminiscing. We consider ourselves lucky to be married to men who are great dads.
Which brings me to Sury, the best dad in the world, in my eyes. His sense of humor charmed me when we met. His patience and uncanny intuition for knowing exactly what to do in a crisis, his kindness, and his ability to see the big picture and not pick nits over minor issues — are all traits I admire. Most of all, he sets an example by doing. He's focused, disciplined, and playful at the same time. He always keeps his promises.
Big bonus? He and my mom got along very well and shared a special bond.
When our son was ten years old, I asked him what he admired most about his dad — and he said: “He is the sweetest and most caring person I know. He is loving and nice to me but also strict. He is ready to help me when I need it. He encourages me to do what I want but makes sure I am sensible and always supports me. He never forces anything on me and insists that I do something only if it is truly necessary. He is always there for me. Oh, it is not really possible to express my love for him in words.”
As for me, I think I am so fortunate that my son has Sury as his dad.
There are so many instances that make me tearful with love.
I remember, twenty-five years ago after we bought our apartment, we were close to broke. We’d had a budget but exceeded it as it seemed like a wise move to invest in this house. This depleted our savings to an alarming extent. We’d stay awake nights figuring out how to balance the budget. I walked to work and managed to minimize expenses as much as I could but what I did was not as great as Sury scrimping on his comforts just so we didn’t have to compromise on anything that was necessary for our son.
What’s amazing is, even though we are better off now, after all these years, Sury continues to be austere with himself, never spending an extra rupee. He never hesitates to indulge our son, though — and I am doubly lucky to be blessed with a son who puts a lot of thought into what he asks because he understands that we’ll never be unreasonable.
Another instance that’s literally engraved on my heart is when we were touring South India. Our son was a toddler at the time. It was crazy hot. One of the temples we visited was on top of a hill and had a few hundred uphill steps cut into the rocky surface, that we had to navigate. Mom couldn’t manage it, so she decided to wait for us at the foot of the hill. The three of us — Sury, son and I set off.
The thing about old temples is that the stairs are cut in stone and burn hot in the midday heat. And because we have to leave our footwear at the main entrance, it is a real challenge to go barefoot. As we look up, it looks literally like the stairway to heaven — seeming to stretch to infinity.
Now imagine a three-year-old running up that. Well after the first few steps, those little feet couldn’t take it anymore and he charmingly stretched out his arms to be carried. We were also struggling; the sweat poured off us. So how to carry him and climb?
Sury, thinking on his feet, pun intended, grabbed my dupatta (a long scarf that’s draped over the shoulders as part of the salwar kameez attire) and spread it in front of us on the ground. We walked the length of it. When we reached the end, we picked it up and spread it in front of us again — and continued to do this until we reached the temple at the top of the hill. I kept thinking to myself, what a brilliant idea! There were other families on their way up the hill and we could hear the parents yelling at the kids.
The best thing about Sury is he has the ability to make light of most situations and keep us in fits of laughter. He speaks in puns. And well, he’s read all of Wodehouse’s books. And he’s in charge of doing the laundry. No wonder I love him! Soulmatish!
I may not have known my own father, but I am grateful my son has the best dad in the world.
Thank you for reading ❤
